


Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)

by velithya



Category: Avengers (Comic), Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M, Tony hates the news media, YES I SAID KITTEN, holy shit what's happened to Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velithya/pseuds/velithya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WTF KITTEN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 日本語 available: [【翻訳】Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732739) by [QT_qt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QT_qt/pseuds/QT_qt), [velithya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velithya/pseuds/velithya)



> Yes, this is why I haven't done the sequel some of you have been asking for ^^; Lots of credits on this monster - thanks to my primary beta [sami](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sami/profile) for fixing my errors and helping me make Peter snarky, canonical betas [flidgetjerome](http://flidgetjerome.livejournal.com) and [twigcollins](http://twigcollins.livejournal.com), handholding and cheerleading from [naanima](http://naanima.dreamwidth.org) and [rallamajoop](http://rallamajoop.livejournal.com/), and my husband [myfyr](http://myfyr.dreamwidth.org) for the title suggestion. And finally, thanks to [music_est_vita](http://music_est_vita.livejournal.com) for giving me the go-ahead to run with my own kitty!Tony idea!
> 
> Originally posted at the [Cap_Ironman](http://cap_ironman.dreamwidth.org) Livejournal community from 6th July 2008 through 15th July 2008.

**Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)**   
**Part 1**

Tony wakes up almost suffocating under the weight of his covers, far too warm. It takes him far too long to claw his way out of the tangle, and it's only when he emerges at the edge of the bed, blinking in the morning light, that he realises something is wrong. The floor is much further away than it was last night, and the bed seems much larger than it should be.

He brings up a hand to rub his eyes and clear his vision, and freezes as he sees a paw instead of fingers.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head, opens his eyes. The paw is still there, and obviously he's hallucinating because he hasn't had his requisite three cups of coffee, which he is going to fix right now, thank you very much.

He gets (jumps) off the bed, landing with much more grace than he usually displays this early, and marches his way across the room. Thankfully the door is open a crack, and he wriggles his way through and darts down the corridor. He doesn't meet anyone along the way (oh, that would be a great conversation starter - 'hi, Peter, am I a cat?' 'No, Tony, are you feeling alright? Also, you might want to put on some clothes' - Tony resists the urge to look down and check, he was wearing a T-shirt and shorts when he stumbled into bed last night and therefore should still be wearing them when he stops hallucinating) and the kitchen is empty.

The coffee is normally kept on the third shelf in the cupboard. Tony sits on his haunches and stares resentfully at the closed cupboard doors for a good five minutes before realising that there was probably a tin on the bench next to the kettle.

He looks up at the towering height of the kitchen bench, and takes a run-up.

His flying leap knocks over two mugs (only one of them breaks) and almost sends him skidding into the sink. Tony ignores the shattered china in favour of heading straight to the coffee tin. The lid is hammered down pretty solidly but he has _claws_ , and when it comes clattering off he knocks the can over and starts licking, rich aroma of coffee rising around him, almost overpowering.

His brain hasn't quite kicked into gear by the time he hears footsteps coming down the hall, and he ignores the noise in favour of eating more coffee. The footsteps cross the kitchen and the fridge opens, and then Steve exclaims from _right behind him_ "There's a kitten in the kitchen!" and Tony skitters sideways, knocking the coffee tin right off the bench and onto the floor.

"Sorry-" Steve apologises immediately, hands out and making what Tony's sure Steve _thinks_ are non-threatening motions. "Sorry there, little guy, shouldn't have startled you. Where did you come from?"

Tony backs away down the bench, leaving coffee-stained pawprints in his wake, and Steve follows, not letting him get further away.

"Come on," Steve says. "Not trying to hurt you, little guy, just trying to find out who you belong to."

"It's Tony, idiot-" Tony goes to say, but it comes out as a plaintive-sounding yowl, and he's shocked enough by the sound of his own voice that Steve moves smoothly forward and catches him up in big hands before he can get out of the way.

"Easy," Steve rumbles, cradling Tony against his chest. "Well, no collar on you, huh? How did you get in?"

"I live here," Tony snaps at him futilely, and the meow that comes out of his mouth has Steve scritching him gently behind the ears.

"Well, I think you've probably had enough coffee," Steve says, shaking his head at Tony's mess. "Why don't we see if anyone else knows who you belong to?"

Tony isn't happy about leaving the coffee, but at least the stuff he _has_ eaten is starting to coax his brain to take up higher function. He's had his coffee, and he's still a cat; ergo, he's probably not hallucinating. ...On the other hand, Steve is still cradling him against his chest, and Steve is very warm. There doesn't seem to be a _pressing_ need to work out a way to communicate.

Steve heads back down the corridor towards the rooms, the place looking almost normal from Tony's vantage point.

"I wonder if Tony knows where you came from?" Steve rumbles softly. "Be like him to pick up a kitten and then leave it to eat coffee on its own."

"It is not!" Tony yowls angrily, and Steve shakes his head.

"Coffee is bad for kittens," he says solemnly. "Don't let Tony tell you otherwise."

"I would not leave a kitten on its own," Tony mutters to himself, but Steve is already outside Tony's room and pushing open the door gently.

"Tony?" he calls softly.

Tony squirms around in Steve's hands so he can see the room. The bedding is rucked and twisted, but there's definitely no-one in the bed.

"Up early, or staying up late?" Steve muses, and pulls the door to. "Let's try the garage."

The elevator takes them straight to Tony's basement, and Steve enters his security code, voice print and retinal scan before the doors grant them access. Apart from the humming of machines, soft but incessant, the lab is quiet, still. One disassembled-then-rebuilt jetboot stands forlorn on a bench where Tony left it last night, surrounded by tools and smears of grease. The air tastes faintly stale, heavy with machine oil and a tinge of exhaust.

"That's odd," Steve says.

Tony twists his head up and mrows.

"I guess he must be upstairs somewhere," Steve says, but he sounds uncertain.

When they step out of the elevator, back upstairs, noise is coming from the kitchen. Steve strides over, stopping in the doorway.

Peter and MJ are fetching bowls and cereal from the cupboards, and Jarvis is kneeling on the floor, cleaning up the spilled coffee. The china shards of the mug Tony had knocked over are stacked in a neat pile on the bench, awaiting disposal.

"Morning," Steve says, always polite, then, "has anyone seen Tony?"

"Good morning Sir," Jarvis says from the floor as Peter looks up and blinks.

"You have a kitten," he says. "Since when do you have a kitten? Can I have a kitten?"

"You don't want a kitten," MJ says to him, and then shakes her head. "I haven't seen Tony this morning, but I heard him stumbling down the corridor at some god-awful hour. Maybe he's still asleep?"

"I didn't think so," Steve says. "I'll check again."

He turns back to the corridor, Peter sounding petulant behind them, "Maybe I _do_ want a kitten!"

Steve walks down the corridor quite a bit faster than last time, pushing open the bedroom door with less attempt at silence. "Tony?" he says, moving into the room. "Tony?"

He sounds, not worried, because Captain America doesn't _worry_ , but, maybe, concerned. "I'm right here," Tony meows, going for reassuring and coming off as - probably - depressingly cute.

Steve tosses the bedcovers, in case Tony has somehow managed to curl himself up like a pretzel under them, and discovers Tony's discarded shirt and shorts from last night, shirt still grease-stained.

"Well, I guess I am naked," Tony says. "Okay."

"Where is he?" Steve mutters, poking his head into the bathroom (empty) before heading back to the kitchen.

Peter and MJ are eating their cereal now, coffee tin back in its place next to the kettle and china shards vanished from the bench.

"Okay, Tony's vanished," Steve says.

Peter looks up, swallows his mouthful. "You still have a kitten," he says.

Steve looks down, surprise on his face like he'd forgotten Tony was there, and shrugs. "I found him eating coffee on the bench this morning," he says. "I was going to ask Tony where he came from."

Peter levels his spoon threateningly at Tony. "Fess up," he demands. "Who sent you?"

"It's a kitten," MJ says. "I don't think he can understand you."

"I am perfectly capable of understanding you," Tony yowls, but no-one is paying attention.

"Why don't you just _call_ Tony?" Peter asks. "He _is_ a cell phone, right?"

Tony blinks, and blames the lack of sufficient coffee for being so slow this morning. He might be a kitten right now, but his _brain_ works just fine. And his brain is Extremis-powered.

Steve juggles him as he fishes out his cell phone one-handed, and Tony reaches through the Extremis and dials.

Steve's phone starts playing the _Star-Spangled Banner_ , and Steve says "It's Tony," something a lot like relief in his tone, and answers. "Tony, hi," he says. "Where are you?"

*You are _holding me_ ,* Tony says through the Extremis, and Steve is so surprised that his fingers slacken far enough that Tony has to scramble to avoid a several-foot drop to the floor.

"What?" Steve says, looking at Tony, finally, and Tony looks up at him and waves one tiny paw.

*Hi,* Tony says. *I appear to be a kitten.*

Steve just stares at him, Tony fidgeting under his gaze. *What?* he says finally. *Say something.*

"I'm hallucinating," Steve says.

"I'm real," Peter says. "Well, I think I'm real, but then again- ow!"

*Give the phone to Peter,* Tony says, and twists in Steve's hand to make a flying leap onto the table. *Come on, phone, Peter.*

"Tony says he's the kitten," Steve says, and hands the phone to Peter. "He wants to talk to you."

Peter takes the phone, looking warily at Tony. "Tony?"

*Hi,* Tony says. *Tell Steve he's not hallucinating. I seem to have been turned into a cat. Somehow.*

"Tony says to say you're not hallucinating," Peter says to Steve. Then he frowns at Tony, and covers the mouthpiece of the phone. "Prove you're Tony," he says.

*With what?* Tony says, and paces across the table to him. *It's not like I can type with paws. At least I finished my armour maintenance before I went to bed.*

"Point," Peter says. He holds the phone out to Steve. "The kitten may be Tony," he allows.

Steve takes the phone. "Tony," he says, "why are you a cat?"

*Like I know,* Tony says, walking back over the table towards Steve. *I went to bed like normal, I woke up like this.*

Steve puts the phone on speaker and then sets it on the table. "Did you do anything strange yesterday? Notice anything weird?"

*Steve,* Tony says, sitting next to the phone, and okay, that's weird, hearing his own voice come from the speaker like that. *We're superheroes. Strange is normal for us.*

"You know what I mean," Steve says, crossing his arms, and Tony sighs.

*No I didn't do anything or notice anything yesterday. I finished my maintenance, went to bed, and woke up like this.*

"Maybe you pissed off the God of Cats," Peter says, leaning forward and gesturing with his spoon. "Did you pass a kitten in the street and ignore it?"

*No,* Tony says, and then pauses. *Uh, guys? I have a problem.*

"What is it?" Steve says, uncrossing his arms, and Tony looks up at him and meows as plaintively as he can manage.

*I'm hungry.*

***

"Tuna," says Peter, already up, cereal abandoned, and poking through the cupboards. MJ is just watching, amused. "Cats like tuna, right?"

*I'm checking the internet,* Tony says, running three searches at once. *And no, I don't like tuna.*

"You've only been a cat for like an hour!" Peter says, turning to the table. "How do you _know_ you don't like tuna? Maybe your new cat tastebuds like tuna."

Tony stares at him for a moment, then deliberately turns his back. *The internet says I should have some sort of special home-cooked food,* he says. *Fish and special milk and vegetables.*

Steve shakes his head, possibly in disbelief, although whether it's over Peter or Tony, Tony can't tell. "Okay," he says. "How about I go down to the store and buy some kitten food?"

*Kitten food?* Tony says. * _Kitten food_?*

Steve finally cracks a smile. "Yes, Tony," he says. "Kitten food. It's food for kittens. Which you apparently are."

"Kitten food," Tony mutters, and it comes out soft and plaintive.

"Don't make that sort of noise," Steve says. "I'll be right back."

*Take me with you,* Tony demands. *If I'm going to be eating _kitten food_ I'm going to pick which one.*

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, scooping up the phone in one hand and Tony in the other, "but I'm swapping this for my communicator. Much easier to talk that way."

"I thought my tuna idea was good," Peter mutters, returning to his seat and poking at his cereal with his spoon.

"Eat your breakfast," MJ says, patting him on the shoulder, and Steve steadies Tony against his chest and heads back to his room.

***

Steve picks his communicator off the nightstand and slots it into his ear, closing his phone. "Okay," he says, putting Tony down on the bed. "Say something."

*Something,* Tony says, a private channel straight to Steve, and Steve smiles.

"Okay, good," he says. He lifts his jacket from the back of a chair, sliding it on, and slings the first strap of his shield case over his shoulder.

*You're going to buy food,* Tony says, prowling down the bed and resisting the urge to pounce on a bunched section of blanket. *Not beat things up.*

"You never know," Steve says, slipping his other arm through the strap. "Also, why are you stalking my blanket?"

Tony immediately sits down and pretends he's been doing nothing of the sort. *I don't know what you're talking about,* he says. *Also, I'm riding on your shield.*

"Sure you don't," Steve says, but he picks Tony up and sets him on his shoulder.

Tony pads across Steve until he's settled in the hollow between the top of the case and Steve's neck, paws and chin resting on Steve's shoulder so he can still see. *Okay,* he says. *Food.*

Steve reaches up, blind, and brushes his fingers over Tony's head. "It is safe for me to take you out in public, right?" he says. "I mean, I don't want to have to chase a kitten around, say, a grocery store where they don't allow pets."

*I will be perfectly well-behaved,* Tony says, yowling right in Steve's ear to illustrate his point.

"I'm going to regret this," Steve says, and they go out the door.

***

Steve pours the kitten food into a bowl on the kitchen table and fishes Tony out from behind his neck. "Here you go."

*Thanks,* Tony says. *And if you pick me up by the scruff of my neck again I am going to bite you.*

Steve makes a 'hmm'ing noise and heads to the cupboard to put the packet away, and Tony sticks his nose in the bowl. He's glad the other Avengers aren't around - it's weird enough being a cat without having an audience while he does things like eat kitten food. Yes, he's a kitten right now, but he just knows that once he's back to normal Peter's going to be telling stories about that time Tony ate cat food for a week, and it's going to be hilarious to everyone but him.

The food is - okay, it's weird, but it's not bad. It's actually pretty good, now that Tony thinks about it, and sets about licking up every stray piece out of the bowl.

By the time he's finished destroying the remains of the food and starts paying attention to things that aren't his breakfast, Steve is sitting at the end of the table with what was once a full glass of milk.

"So, not too bad then?" Steve says, and Tony mrows at him.

Steve downs the rest of his milk and picks up Tony's bowl, standing and putting the dishes on the sink. Tony stretches, trying not to put claw marks on the table, and then realises he has another problem.

*Steve, I need to, um.*

"Tony?" Steve turns around, leans against the bench.

*Uh, nevermind.*

"Come on," Steve says.

*Bathroom,* Tony manages, curling into a little ball of embarrassed kitten.

"We could get you a l-"

*You say the word 'litterbox' and I will claw you in your sleep,* Tony says. *Just, put me in the bathroom and close the door.*

"I just don't want you to fall in," Steve says.

*The internet says I'll be fine,* Tony says.

"Because the internet is never wrong," Steve says, but he picks Tony up and sets him on his shoulder as they go down the corridor.

***

Steve only has to dry him off three times before he gets the hang of it.

***

Steve spends a big chunk of the day in the gym. Tony curls up in a corner on Steve's jacket and spends his time researching via the Extremis, trying to find anything he can about people being turned into kittens. Cats. Felines of any description. He's not fussy, really, as long as he can find something.

He finds a lot of nothing, and after several hours he's hungry again, tired, and has a headache. He's not really sure if cats are supposed to get headaches, and he'd run another search to see but his head hurts too much.

"I'm hungry again," Tony announces to Steve, who is currently stretching in the middle of the mat, film of sweat on his skin.

"You have to speak English," Steve says, face against his knee, and Tony uncurls from the jacket and shakes himself out.

*I'm hungry again,* Tony says, head throbbing. *Isn't it lunch time yet?*

"Probably mid-afternoon," Steve says, switching legs. "You're the one with the clock."

Tony flops over onto the edge of the mat. *I have a headache,* he admits.

"Can cats get headaches?" Steve asks, and Tony groans plaintively. "Okay," Steve says, "I'll take your word for it."

He holds the stretch for a few more moments and then relaxes back up, shifting to his feet. He scoops Tony up in one hand, his jacket in the other, and heads back to the kitchen.

The bowl from earlier has been rinsed and is sitting back on the kitchen table; Steve puts Tony next to it and pulls out the packet of kitten food again.

"I'm going to grab a shower," Steve says as he fills the bowl. "Don't go anywhere."

Tony mrows his agreement and sticks his nose in, vaguely registering Steve's footsteps going down the corridor. He's a kitten on a mission, and he can't believe he just thought that sentence. Being a kitten is frying his brain, obviously. Anyway, he has food to eat.

Once the bowl is empty, Tony curls up in a ball next to it. Apparently being a kitten involves a lot of eating and then feeling sleepy. He tucks his head on his paws and closes his eyes, and then Steve is carefully picking him up, trying not to jostle him too much.

"What time is it?" Tony mumbles, verbalising as some sort of pathetic whimper, and he would care more about that but he's really kind of tired.

"Go back to sleep," Steve murmurs, easing gentle fingers down the back of his head, and Tony does.

***

Tony wakes up cold, curled in a ball on a chair next to Steve's bed. The room is dark but he's a kitten - he can see just fine, no need for a light. Steve is sleeping on his back, blankets up to his armpits, his communicator still in his ear.

Tony uncurls and stretches, claws snagging at least two fabric threads, but Tony's pretty sure Steve doesn't care about the chair upholstery. He glances around, and notices that Steve has left the bathroom door ajar. He leaps down from the chair, padding over, and eels through the gap. Inside, Steve has set up a bowl of water and another bowl of kitten food on a little mat for him.

Tony eats and drinks, checking the time via Extremis. It's getting towards midnight, so he's slept for a fairly long time, and yet he's still sleepy.

"Kittens," he snorts out loud, and then freezes to see if Steve heard.

Nothing from the bedroom, and he takes another few laps of water before heading back. He jumps back on the chair and curls up, but he's still too cold to be really comfortable. He eyes off the bed for a moment, then mentally shrugs and leaps across the gap. He doesn't _think_ Steve will mind, and if he does, Tony will apologise tomorrow.

He pads up the blankets, tiny paws stepping lightly up Steve's arm, and curls up on his chest. It's much warmer up here, and Tony puts his head down. Steve's heart throbs steadily under his ear, and he lets himself go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)**  
 **Part 2**

Tony's in the kitchen when the call comes in, and he's halfway to the elevator and calling the undersheath of his armour when he realises that a)his undersheath is not responsive and b)he is a kitten, and will therefore be unable to physically pilot his armour. Not that this will stop him directing his armour remotely (and he sends out the order to assemble, pieces flying together and the visual feed from the armour kicking in behind his eyes) but Tony _likes_ being in the armour.

He hears Steve give the order to assemble over the communicators, Peter and Luke checking in, already on their way. Jessica is on the helicarrier for a meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D., but she'll get there as soon as she can, although Maria Hill is stalling with her usual animosity.

*Steve, do you need a lift?* Tony asks, racing down the corridor. Steve had been taking a shower after a gym workout; he's stepping out of his room as Tony approaches, shield on his arm and pulling his cowl up one-handed.

"Tony, you're-" Steve says, and then the armour steps out of the elevator.

"Come on, Captain," Iron Man says. "The others are already on their way."

"I heard," Steve says, jogging past Tony towards the armour. "You're right to pilot like this?"

"I could pilot the armour in my sleep," Iron Man says, Tony doing a sharp u-turn and dashing after Steve.

Steve stops next to the armour, which puts an arm around his waist. "Hold on," Tony says through the armour as he takes a flying leap and sets all four sets of claws in one of Steve's belt pouches.

The armour launches, Tony clinging on for dear life. He traces the location of the origin call and sets a flight path before they've even cleared the roof, monitoring his visual feeds automatically for air traffic as he tracks down any digital signal coming from the area. He picks up a police band ("Sir, it's- we can't contain this! We need help!"), sixteen cell phone videos (although he's learnt his lesson about those, too blurry to be useful unless they're the only thing in the area) and two network-TV video cameras. He patches into those, streaming them straight into his head.

*Anyone know what we're dealing with?* Tony asks over the Avengers channel, watching two almost identical blonde newscasters speak earnestly into microphones about the menace crawling over New York streets.

The armour flies around a corner, automatically correcting against the wind, and one of the cameras pans over and up, zooming in on people running frantically down the street. The newscaster is saying something about pandemonium in the streets.

"I'm almost there," Peter says. "Just around this - oh my god. This is worse than the ninjas."

"I thought nothing was worse than ninjas," Luke says.

The second camera pans across, now, and Tony blinks as he stares at the feed, trying to work out if he should believe what he's seeing.

"I changed my mind," Peter says. "This is _definitely_ worse than ninjas."

"What are we looking at, Spider-Man?" Steve says, all Captain America now that there's something to fight, and the armour clears the last obstructing building and enters open airspace.

"Giant lobsters," Peter says, and Tony watches from two different angles as lobsters the size of buses scuttle down the sidewalk, leaving lightpoles crumpled and sparking in their wake.

"Are you shitting me?" Luke says, and Tony drops the extra feeds, doing a visual scan through the armour.

*The lobsters are coming from the river,* Tony says. *They appear to be arriving onto the island at a single point and then spreading out.*

"We need to contain them and force them back to that point," Steve says. "Luke, where are you coming from?"

"North," Luke says.

"You take the northern streets," Steve says immediately.

"I'm at the south end," Peter says, and Steve looks sideways at the armour.

"Drop me north of centre," he says. "We'll take the middle."

"Got it," Tony says, calculates where the lobsters will be in thirty seconds, and takes them in to land.

The moment boots touch pavement Steve is off and running. Tony's paws are starting to ache from the strain of holding on so long, but he tries to ignore it (and it's not like he's _short_ of practice on attempting to ignore pain, but that's something he _also_ tries to ignore). The armour takes off again, staying low this time and cutting between buildings, arriving at the point Tony tracked a good ten seconds before the first giant lobster.

"I'm here," Luke says, then "Shit, they really are giant lobsters."

"And here I forgot to bring my lobster mallet," Peter says.

Tony patches in to the police band. *This is Iron Man. The Avengers are here to contain the threat. Please clear the area of civilians.*

"Roger that, Iron Man," someone replies, and then the armour is in range, body-slamming the first lobster and stopping it in its tracks, following it up with a double-gauntlet repulser blast which sends it tumbling backwards down the street.

Steve has also engaged his first lobster, although since Tony is clinging to a belt-pouch on his back, Tony has no idea what he's doing. He's just trying to hang on and go with Steve's motions.

The lobster the armour tossed has managed to collect two other lobsters in its path, a tangled mess of waving claws and feelers fetched up against a line of parked cars. Tony sends the armour racing forward, blasting the lobster pile further backwards, catching up another lobster in its tumble.

Steve darts sideways, one of Tony's back paws coming loose as a giant claw snaps shut right where Steve's head had just been. Tony scrabbles back a clawhold as Steve moves forward, twisting as he throws his shield at the lobster in front of him.

*Spider-Man,* Tony says, body swinging sideways as Steve moves again, *I'm three streets north of you. I have a pile of lobsters that would be much more awesome as a ball of lobsters.*

"I'm not sure webbing will go that well with garlic butter," Peter says. A few moments later he swings down from overhead and covers the lobster pile with webbing.

"These things came out of the Hudson," Luke says. "You really want to eat them?"

"That's true," Peter says, swinging out of the armour's sight. "They're just shells of their former selves."

One of Tony's front paws comes loose this time, and he sends the armour charging forward with the smallest amount of concentration he can as he desperately swipes at the leather. He manages to snag one claw into the pouch and hang as the armour shoves the lobster ball careening down the street, knocking over the lobsters advancing in his direction.

"Hey, you got a strike!" Peter says.

"What _are_ you talking about?" Luke says.

"Lobster-bowling," Peter says. "It's the new sport this season."

*How are you guys going?* Tony says. *My section is under control.*

"I _am_ a lobster mallet," Luke says. "I got no problems."

"Fine here," Steve says, and then dives into a sideways roll across the street as a claw slams into the asphalt where he'd just been. Peter's answer blurs into Tony's yowl as he loses his grip and gets tossed to the street, tumbling a few feet before he can regain his balance. He gets to his feet a little unsteadily, shaking his head and looking around.

Steve is standing a few yards away, back to the lobsters and staring at him. "Tony? What are you-" he says, not over the comm, and the lobster behind him raises a claw.

*Behind you!* Tony says directly to Steve, urgent, and Steve spins and shifts in the same motion, Tony a streak across the street as he darts to catch up to him.

"What are you doing here," Steve says, sharp and concerned, all accusation and no question. "This is no place for kittens."

*I'll be fine,* Tony says. *Just keep fighting.*

" _Tony_ -" Steve says, and Tony hisses in annoyance.

*I will _watch_ from over here if you want,* he says. *Just stop arguing an- duck!*

Steve does a controlled tumble across the street, rolling up and flinging his shield at the lobster, hitting it right in the fa- in the mass of feelers and eyes that's _probably_ its face, anyway. The lobster staggers backwards, Steve advancing. "Just stay out of the way," Steve says, and then throws his shield again, muscles in his arm bunching.

Tony jumps onto the hood of the nearest parked car, then the roof, keeping pace with Steve as he slowly advances. In the back of his mind, the armour is pushing the lobster ball even further down the street. It takes out another set of lobsters, and he tracks where he is compared to the others, communicator signals blinking dots on his map of New York streets. Peter is lagging behind the most, and he gives the lobster ball one last push before taking a quick zigzag over in his direction.

*Spider-Man,* Tony says, *swap streets.*

"You just think my lobsters are tastier than yours," Peter accuses, giving the armour the thumbs up as he swings past in the opposite direction.

*I don't think I'm going to be eating lobster again for a very long time,* Tony says, and sets about blasting Peter's lobsters down the street towards the river.

His physical body has jumped another three cars to keep up with Steve, slowly but surely pushing his lobsters back. A noise to his right catches his attention, a diner full of patrons plastered to glass windows and watching, without care for their own safety. One of them is pointing at him, and he shakes himself and looks away, jumping to the next car.

*If you can get this one back and to the right you'll take out the next lobster too,* Tony says to Steve.

Steve doesn't reply, frustration in the line of his body as he hurls his shield again, but the lobster goes staggering back and to the right, tumbling into the one behind it and both of them going down.

"Easy, kitty kitty," someone says behind him, soft, Tony not paying attention as he scans the area for the most advantageous direction Steve can shove his next lobster. "Come on, just let me-"

Someone grabs him, hands tight around his midsection, and Tony yowls, scrabbling furiously and lashing out with claws.

* _Steve_!* he yells, panicked, and then whoever it is drops him as Tony scores a particularly vicious scratch down the back of their hand. He streaks towards Steve, who has turned in his direction, the next lobster a little way off and no immediate threat.

He circles behind Steve's legs, turning and hissing at his attacker. It's the guy from the diner, who is swearing and shaking out his injured hand.

"It's not safe out here, you should go back inside," Steve tells him, voice raised to carry. "Also, don't touch the kitten."

"Just trying to get her to safety," the guy mutters, but he goes.

"Can you stay out of trouble for one minute?" Steve asks Tony wearily, and Tony mrows plaintively.

*I _was_ staying out of trouble!* he complains. *If that guy hadn't - okay, lobster time.*

He gets out of the way as Steve moves forward to intercept the lobster, finding another line of parked cars to watch from - on the other side of the street. There are no more surprises, though, and by the time the Avengers converge on the point the lobsters had been leaving the river they are already retreating, scuttling back into the river, leaving their fallen behind.

"Where the hell were they coming from?" Luke demands. His shirt has been reduced to shreds, although his sunglasses are still in place, albeit scratched.

"Wherever giant lobsters live?" Peter asks, flicking a stray piece of shell from his shoulder. Tony, sitting on Steve's shoulder, ducks as it flies past.

"I can find out," Tony says, and the armour dives into the river after them. He follows the flickering motions of the final lobster a hundred yards towards the ocean, and then there is a blur of colour and motion and when everything clears it's gone.

Tony circles the spot, doing scan after scan, but it all comes to the same conclusion: nothing.

*You're not going to believe this,* he says, finally. *They just vanished. There's no energy residue here, nothing to indicate a portal of any kind, or a cloaked ship, or anything at all. There's just, nothing. Like they were never here.*

Tony swivels his head to check, but the strewn debris of fallen lobsters over the streets indicates that a similar disappearance has not affected the remaining lobsters on land.

"That's disturbing," Peter says. "Seriously. Anyone else find that disturbing? I mean, giant lobsters the size of buses don't just _vanish_."

"Apparently, they do," Tony says, wading out of the river, water sheeting off the armour.

"Well, shit," Luke says, looking at the armour. "Are they going to come back?"

The armour shrugs. "Hell if I know," Tony says.

Luke takes the non-answer at face value, nodding and glancing around. His gaze falls on Tony, sitting on Steve's shoulder. "Hey," he says. "Hey, Cap. Why do you have a kitten?"

***

Peter says he'll make his own way back to the Tower, but the armour gives both Steve and Luke a lift back, one under each arm, Steve with Tony cradled carefully in the crook of his arm. Steve's still annoyed, Tony can tell with how he barely said two words while Peter told Luke all about Tony's current status as a kitten, but the arm holding him is gentle, safe. Despite smelling really quite a lot like lobster, Steve is still very warm, and underneath it all, he still smells like Steve.

When they land on the roof Luke sniffs a few times and declares he is going to spend the rest of the day in the shower scrubbing off lobster. Steve nods as he leaves, and then it's just him and Tony, and silence.

*You should have a shower too,* Tony says. *The lobster is kind of strong.*

Steve nods and heads through the door, the armour following. Once inside Tony sends it towards the elevator, where it can go back down to the lab, sluice off, and then disassemble. Steve goes straight for his room, setting Tony down on the chair next to the bed and walking into the bathroom. The door closes firmly behind him, and Tony stares at it. There's the odd thunk of metal on plaster that would be the shield being lent against the wall, the rustle of clothes hitting the floor, and then water rushing through pipes.

"Tony," Steve says after a minute, voice coming through soft on the private channel, "why did you come to the fight?"

Tony pokes delicately at a loose thread with one of his claws. *I'm an Avenger,* he says. *Once an Avenger-*

"Always an Avenger," Steve finishes. "I know, but Tony - you're a _kitten_. You could have been hurt."

*I _didn't_ get hurt,* Tony says. *Steve, I was fine. I will be fine. I'm not just - I'm not going to sit here and not help.*

"That guy grabbed you," Steve says. "I thought-" He breaks off, silence for a few moments. "I'm going to wash my hair," he says. "I'll be back in a second."

The line goes dead, and Tony prowls around the chair. He should go do... something else, some _where_ else, but he can't tinker with his armour and anyway, the garage is probably going to smell like lobster for the next five hours. Steve put him on the chair, though, and Steve - well, it means something to Tony that out of all of them, Steve's the only one wearing his communicator at all times. Even when he's sleeping.

The line clicks open and Tony stops circling and sits down facing the door.

"When the guy grabbed you," Steve says, never one to back down from a topic, "I thought a lobster had hit you. I don't want you to get hurt."

*I'm not - Steve, that guy was just a guy. The lobsters never got near me. Kittens can run pretty fast.*

"That's not the _point_ ," Steve says, frustration lacing his tone. "You're a kitten and you shouldn't have been there."

Tony blinks. *You... don't want me to help.*

"I want you to help. I _don't_ want you to get hurt because you're a kitten and can't protect yourself," Steve says. In the bathroom, the water shuts off.

Tony picks at the end of the loose thread. *I can handle it,* he says. *I'm not going to get hurt.*

"Tony-"

*You can't just cut me out,* Tony says. Steve had come to him first, when he wanted to restart the Avengers, and that meant something, right?

"I'm not trying to cut you out," Steve says. His voice is muffled, odd rustling underlying his words; Tony guesses he's toweling his hair. "I'm _trying_ to stop you getting hurt because you are a _kitten_."

Tony hears 'kitten', and behind that he hears 'heart condition' and 'recovering alcoholic' and 'been mind-controlled too many times'. *Steve, I can't - this is what I do. This is _who I am_.* It was always going to be something, but Tony's gotten used to the hand he gets dealt. *I'm not going to let this stop me doing my job.*

"You don't have to let it," Steve says. "You were remote-piloting the armour today - why couldn't you pilot it from here?"

Tony blinks, processing. Steve doesn't want him fighting with the others. Doesn't want him there. *If you don't want me around you just have to say so,* he says.

"That is not what I said," Steve says, and then the door to the bathroom wrenches open, Steve haloed in steam, towel around his waist and hair standing up in messy spikes. "Tony, I _do_ want you around. You're part of the team. I just want you to look after yourself for a change."

Tony's going to reply, he really is, because he _does_ look after himself, it's just that other things are more important than him, only his kitten body decides then to remind him that a)he is a kitten and b)kittens get hungry, especially kittens who have just hitched rides to a battlezone with giant lobsters and then raced all over the road. He makes a noise that he will deny with his last breath ever making, it's that pitiful, and Steve frowns.

"Tony? You okay?"

*I'm hungry again,* Tony says, dropping his head onto his paws and groaning.

Steve sighs. "Let me put some clothes on," he says, "and I'll get you some food."


	3. Chapter 3

**Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)**   
**Part 3**

Tony is in the garage when the news comes on. He doesn't normally pay attention, but this whole thing where he's a kitten means that while he can design specs as much as he wants, he can't actually construct anything worth a damn, and it's starting to frustrate him. He probably shouldn't have come down here at all, but after this morning's conversation with Steve, Tony thought he should give the man a break. He's certainly not hiding or anything, and the fact that he's put the garage into what is essentially a scaled-down version of a lock-down doesn't mean anything.

"-Avengers," he catches out of the corner of his ear, and stops scowling at the specs for a kitten-sized hookup to fit inside his armour that he has no way to build, and anyway he's not going to be a kitten forever so it's not like he _needs_ to think about adapting his armour to his current form, and he should be watching the TV now.

He ups the volume via Extremis and leaps across to the next workbench, closer to the screen. A middle-aged man is standing with a microphone on a sidewalk, lobster remains scattered across the road behind him.

"They arrived shortly after initial incursion, and were able to push the lobsters back to the river with no further casualties," the man says. "This footage, captured on cell phones earlier, shows some of the fight."

The screen cuts to a slightly blurred image of Steve throwing his shield at the lobster in front of him, Tony a tiny dark shape streaking away to a line of cars.

"For those of us not present at the fight," the man says, picture cutting back to him, "Captain America appears to have picked up a new sidekick."

Tony freezes on the workbench, staring, as the newscaster steps slightly to the side. "Derek Jones, a local resident who was in the area, witnessed the fight."

A second man steps into shot, the guy who'd tried to grab Tony back on the street. "Thanks, Tom," he says, and the newscaster nods.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, Derek?"

"I took my morning break in a diner across the street," Derek says, looking at the camera. "I was in there when the lobsters started coming down the street, and we all stayed inside, because it seemed safer that way."

He doesn't look nervous in front of the camera, and Tony hisses at the screen. "Asshole," he mutters.

"Captain America came down the street shortly afterwards," Derek continues. "He was pushing the lobsters back, and there was this tiny black kitten keeping pace with him on the parked cars. I didn't realise the kitten was with him, and I went out to try and bring her to safety."

"Wait," Tony says. "Wait, ' _her_ '?"

"And that's when the kitten attacked you?" Tom the newscaster says, and Derek nods and lifts his wrists into view. They're covered with thin scratches, the largest across the back of his hand still raised and red.

"I tried to get her off the car," Derek says, "and she attacked me."

"You grabbed me!" Tony yowls at the screen. "I am _not a girl_!"

"And then what happened?" Tom asks.

"I dropped her and she ran right to Captain America," Derek says. "He told me to go back inside, and not to touch the kitten." He looks down at his wrists, then back up at the camera. "I was trying to _help her_ ," he says, eyes glimmering, and Tony sneers at the screen.

" _Asshole_ ," he says.

"Thanks Derek," Tom says, patting him on the shoulder, and turns to the camera. It zooms in, enough to take Derek out of the shot. "Another bystander caught these shots at the end of the fight," Tom says, and the screen shows a picture of the four of them talking, Tony perched on Steve's shoulder.

"These pictures seem to confirm that the kitten is attached to Captain America," Tom says, picture returning to him. "But is his choice of helper wise? The kitten has no collar, a violation of New York law, and seems badly trained, as Derek has attested. We can only ask, what is Captain America thinking?"

Tony switches off the TV in disgust, which is of course when Steve decides to call him on the communicator.

"Tony? You there?"

*Yeah,* Tony says wearily. *What is it?*

Steve sounds hesitant. "It's been a few hours," he says. "Are you-" He pauses, and then starts again. "Are you hungry?"

Now that he's mentioned it, Tony _is_ hungry. Very hungry. *Yeah, a bit,* he says.

"If you come out of there I can get some food for you," Steve says.

*Okay,* Tony says, and then sighs. *Also, you'd better watch the news.*

Tony takes the garage out of the lockdown, noting that one Steve Rogers had tried to gain access three (3) times in the last hour, and has the elevator take him back up to the penthouse. When the doors open and he pads out, Steve is standing in front of the TV, scowling.

"I cannot believe what they will play as news," Steve mutters to himself, and Tony annouces his arrival by mrowing at him.

*They're saying I'm a law violation,* he says, twining around Steve's ankles. *A law violation!*

"Well they're right," Steve says, staying very still. "You _don't_ have a collar."

Tony yowls his disgust, and Steve shrugs. "The cameras are going to be on you now," he says. "If you want to go outside, you're going to have to wear a collar."

Tony sits down in the middle of the floor and whines miserably. Steve crouches down next to him and gently scoops him up. "Look at it this way," he says. "It's just like when you wear a suit and tie for all those press conferences and board meetings you have."

Tony looks up at Steve with the saddest expression he can manage. "It's a _collar_ ," he whines, and Steve shakes his head and looks away.

"Your kitten eyes will not work on me," he says firmly, and stands to walk into the kitchen. "We can go to the pet store after you have something to eat."

***

The pet store has a variety of collars of different colours on hooks, arranged according to size. Tony puts a moratorium on anything orange, pink, or sparkling, and then tries on the rest of the collars in his size one by one. He eventually settles on a sleek black leather collar twice the price of everything else. The store owner has to put in extra holes in it so it will fit around his neck, but once that's done it's quite comfortable. Steve buys one of the little identity tags for him as well, a tiny round silver disc. 

*I can engrave that back in the garage,* Tony says, and Steve turns down the owner's offer to engrave it for them.

Safely back in Stark Tower, Tony has Steve carry him to the garage where he spends five minutes programming one of the machines to engrave the disc for him.

*Okay, put it on the slot,* he says finally, Steve putting the disc down where indicated, and Tony starts the program.

The machine engraves "Avengers Tower, New York" on one side of the disc, and then flips it over.

"What are you going to put?" Steve asks, and Tony watches as the machine spells out 'STARK' on the other side.

*I certainly wasn't going with Peter's suggestions,* Tony says, the machine tipping the finished disc onto a plate to cool.

"I don't know," Steve says nonchalantly, "I thought 'Mister Fluffy' was a great name for a kitten-" and then bolts as Tony chases him across the lab.

***

It's MJ's turn to pick the film tonight, and she picks _Kiss Me, Kate_ , an early 50s film that Tony had seen one night when he was working late in the garage. They squash onto the couches in their usual positions, which leaves Steve a couch to himself, Tony curled up on the empty seat next to Steve's leg.

He's mostly used to the collar by now, but it's tighter than he normally wears his suit ties and every so often he'll twitch his head to try and get rid of whatever is starting to choke him, tag clinking gently.

The fourth time he does it Steve sets his hand carefully on the nape of Tony's neck, scritching gently behind his ears. It works as a great distraction, actually, and Tony leans into the warmth of Steve's leg, stretching his head forward onto his paws. He can't really see the screen properly from this angle, but that's okay, he's seen the movie already. If he really wanted he could hack into the digital signal and watch it via Extremis, anyway.

Steve's fingers are soothing, and the heat is nice, and Tony lets his eyelids droop. He's not falling asleep, just resting, really. His ears work fine, though, which is why he hears Peter whisper softly (he assumes to MJ), "Hey, is Tony purring?"

He is, he realises, purring, kind of loudly, actually, and shakes himself free of Steve's hand, bolting off the couch and out of the room.

"Hey, Tony-" he hears Peter call from behind him and ignores it in favour of streaking down the hall and into his room. He leans against his door to close it, and it's only once the lock has clicked that he realises that he actually has no way of opening the door again.

"God _dammit_ ," he swears, butting the door in frustration with his head, and then yowls in pain.

Footsteps come near the door, too heavy to be Peter, and Steve says over the comm "I'm going to open the door now."

Tony gets out of the way as the door swings open, huddling in on the carpet, and Steve comes through the gap and closes the door behind him, sitting down on the carpet next to him.

"I'll open the door anytime you want," he says softly. "I just thought you might not want other people hearing."

Tony mrows, embarrassed and depressed all at once. It wasn't his fault he was a kitten, but he was supposed to have better control over himself than this. He hadn't even realised he was-

"It's okay," Steve says. "You're a kitten, and kittens purr."

*It was not okay,* Tony says. *It was inappropriate and I shouldn't have.*

Steve pauses. "Inappropriate? How was it inappropriate?"

Tony is not answering that question truthfully, and maybe not at all, because then it would mean revealing to Steve that enjoying what Steve was doing to the extent that he has some sort of involuntary reaction like _purring_ , for gods sake, was _definitely_ inappropriate, and he'd been able to keep himself in check for the past several years just fine and just because he was a kitten didn't mean that he could just-

Tony stops, calms down. Steve is right here, and he had better give him _some_ sort of answer. He's just not sure what to say.

"Look, it-" Steve says, maybe taking Tony's silence the wrong way. "I'm sorry for scritching you, it just seemed like your collar was annoying you and obviously you didn't want me to. I'm sorry."

*What?* Tony says. It's not _Steve's_ fault, not at all. *No, no, you were fine. It's not your fault.*

"Then why are you hiding in here?" Steve asks, leaning back on his hands and looking at the ceiling. Tony takes a second to admire the long planes of his throat.

*Because-* Tony says. *Because I didn't realise I was purring and it was kind of embarrassing to have it drawn to my attention that way.*

"You know," Steve says, "Cats purr all the time. It just means you're happy."

And how, Tony thinks, and shakes his head. *It was embarrassing,* he says.

"I thought it was cute," Steve says.

" _Cute_?" Tony says, outraged, only it comes out tiny and kittenish, and Steve grins at him.

"Definitely cute," Steve says, and Tony sits bolt upright and glowers.

*I am _not cute_ ,* he says.

"Can I get that in writing?" Steve says. "Breaking news: Tony Stark says he's not cute."

*Oh, that's it,* Tony says, and leaps at Steve.

Steve's quicker than he's expecting, bringing both hands up fast to catch Tony before Tony can land on his face, and without their support falls back onto the carpet, laughing. Tony stalks down his chest to put his nose right in Steve's face.

*Say it,* Tony says.

Steve calms down and stops laughing, taking a breath. "You are _definitely_ the cutest little kitten ever."

Tony yowls in frustration as Steve starts laughing again. It's okay, though, because Steve laughing is one of the best sounds in the world, right up there with the armour forming around him and the coffeemaker beep that means his coffee is finished.

Steve thinks he's cute.

***

They don't go back and finish the movie with the others; Steve says he's tired and Tony's had an... _eventful_ day, also he's a kitten and he gets tired pretty easily. Steve just carries him back to his room and puts him in the bathroom while Steve gets changed out in the main room, then when Tony's done Tony makes himself comfortable on his chair while Steve uses the bathroom.

Steve leaves the door open a crack for Tony, in case he wants to move around, and slides into bed, shifting around a bit before he stills. There's a moment of silence, Tony aware of Steve breathing and the fact that they're both still awake, listening.

"Tony," Steve says, softly. "If you want, you can." He stops, and Tony sits up.

*Steve?*

"I noticed last night, you, uh. Moved over here in the middle of the night."

Tony's not sure if kittens can blush, but his face feels hot anyway. *Um, I was just-* He _thought_ he'd woken up before Steve, and avoided him noticing, but apparently that's not the case. He's not really sure what to say, but thankfully Steve cuts him off.

"It's okay, I didn't mind," Steve says. "I know this. Hasn't been easy for you. If it's more comfortable for you over here, that's okay."

*Are you sure?* Tony says doubtfully. He really _wants_ to take Steve up on his offer, but he doesn't want Steve to be offering out of a sense of obligation. *Kittens are kind of heavy.*

"I'm sure," Steve says. "If I minded I would have said something last night. Also, you really aren't that heavy."

*If you're going to segue into one of your 'you should eat more' conversations,* Tony says, leaping onto Steve's bed, *you can stop right there.*

"You're eating your own weight in kitten food every day," Steve says. "I wouldn't dream of-"

Tony mrows at him, and Steve stops, grinning. "Hurry up and get up here," he says.

Tony steps carefully up onto his chest, curling up into a ball. Steve's fingers brush over his head a second later, his scent familiar and safe.

"'Night, Tony," he says, softly, and Tony mrows quietly in response.


	4. Chapter 4

**Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)**   
**Part 4**

Tony wakes before Steve again the next morning, but sure in the knowledge that Steve doesn't mind him there - invited him, even - Tony doesn't bother moving, Steve warm and solid beneath him. He tunes into the morning news channel (dark clouds to the east herald a storm, Spears in rehab again, Captain America's cat still a mystery) and opens his email (16 spam mail, obviously he'll need to tighten the code in his spam filter again, and 27 new messages). He smirks inwardly as he forwards twenty of them to Pepper - she can have fun dealing with _those_ , subject lines about invitations and conferences - and opens the latest specs forwarded from the R&D department.

He's running equations to check their math (he thinks they've missed a variable, and he's looking forward to sending it back to them with the errors circled in red) when Steve's breathing changes, ever so slight hitch as he comes to consciousness. It's very smooth, really, and Tony probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been curled up on Steve's chest.

Steve yawns, shifting slightly under Tony, not really enough to disturb him, and then a gentle hand comes down on his back, fingers soothing through his fur from neck to tail. Tony registers that he's purring a few seconds after he actually starts doing it, and stops abruptly.

"Morning," Steve says, voice still husky from sleep. "S'okay."

"Morning," Tony says, because a meow right now will probably not sound quite so embarrassed.

"What time is it?" Steve asks, yawning again. His fingers are still working their way along Tony's back in gentle strokes, and Tony lets himself relax into it, purring very, very quietly.

*Seven oh three,* Tony says as the equations finish. The R&D guys _have_ missed a variable, and Tony attaches his copy of the math to the email with a slightly bitchy note about avoiding killing lots of people and fires it back at them.

"Time for the gym," Steve says, stretching out his other hand. Tony can feel the muscles in his chest flex under him.

*Time for coffee,* Tony says.

"Coffee is bad for kittens," Steve says.

"Steeeeeeeve," Tony whines, opening his eyes and doing his best to look pitiful.

Steve freezes for a second, then shakes his head. "I've told you before," he says, "your kitten eyes won't work on me."

Tony sighs and uncurls from his ball, starting to stretch and then stopping at the last second when he realises that he's still standing on Steve and Steve probably won't appreciate claws in his skin. He pads off Steve and jumps onto his chair, stretching there instead.

Steve sits up, swinging his legs over the edge and standing up. He stretches with both arms, up above his head, shirt riding up above the waistband of his shorts, and then rolls down, touching his toes. Something cracks, and Steve hums out a breath.

"That's disturbing," Tony mutters, and Steve straightens.

"You want some food before I head down?" he asks, going into the bathroom and closing the door.

*Yeah,* Tony says. *I'm kind of hungry a lot.*

"I'm not going to complain," Steve says. He comes out a minute later in workout gear, tossing his sleeping clothes onto the bed. "Okay, to the kitchen."

Tony's going to jump down and get there himself, but Steve scoops him up before he can take more than a step, settling him on his shoulder as he starts walking. Tony shrugs mentally and makes himself comfortable.

Once Steve's set Tony up with his breakfast he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and wanders down the hall to the elevator. Tony hears him go with half an ear, attention on his food. It's kind of weird how he's eating the same thing for what, three days now, and it's still just as tasty as when he first ate it. It must be some sort of strange kitten thing.

Bowl licked clean, Tony jumps down off the table and pads out into the living room. The morning sun through the windows is casting a large patch of light across the couches, and Tony hops up onto an armrest and curls up in the warmth, accessing his email again. There had been another set of specs for a different project further down, whose math he'd pulled to pieces three days ago. Hopefully they'd come up with something better by now.

He hears MJ and Peter come down the hall and into the kitchen some time later, clatter of bowls and spoons. The math is far more complicated on this project, Tony running four intertwining calculations and two graphs simultaneously. So far, the numbers check out, but Tony's reserving judgment until the end.

More clattering signals an end to breakfast, and footsteps wander past twice before Peter notices him.

"Oh, Tony," he says, "hi."

Tony looks up, notes that Peter is not wearing his communicator, and settles his head back on his paws. "Morning."

Peter glances around, then wanders out of Tony's field of vision for a second. "Hey, can you hold this?" Something Peter-smelling drapes gently over the back of his head. "That's great, just like that-"

A rush of air means Peter has done some sort of flip, and a camera flash goes off. Peter lands in front of Tony, smiling and also looking kind of nervous, like maybe he's worried Tony will claw him in the face, and stands up, snatching up whatever he'd put down. "Okay, well, off to work! See you later-"

"Peter-" Tony calls, but Peter can move really quite fast when he wants to, and he's already at the elevator, doors closing between them.

Tony glowers at the floor for a good minute or so, and then the math behind his eyes completes without a hitch, numbers spooling out perfectly. Tony cross checks them just to be sure, but it's all correct, down to the last point on the graphs. Since they'd managed to get it right this time, Tony just adds 'no casualties' to the email as he attaches his files, then sends it off.

"Morning, Tony," MJ says, patting him on the head as she goes past with a whiff of perfume. "Have a good day!"

"Thanks," Tony says, waving a paw at her, and she smiles and waves back before she, too, heads down the elevator.

Tony's email pings, and he checks the new message to see it's from Pepper, subject line 'THIS IS IMPORTANT TONY'. He sighs and opens it. The message is short and to the point - he has a board meeting at 10am, he had better not be late, threats of death and resignation. He wonders if 'I'm a kitten right now' is a decent enough excuse, and decides it's probably not.

He phones her instead.

"Tony, where are you?"

*Not physically attending the meeting,* Tony says.

"Tony-" Pepper starts, and Tony can just tell that the threats are about to begin.

*I'm going to teleconference,* Tony says really fast, and wonders how the silence on the other end of the line can be so threatening.

"You had better be in bed on the verge of death," Pepper says, but she's not saying no or killing him, so Tony counts it as a win.

*Let's just say that I cannot possibly appear in front of the board in person right now and leave it at that,* Tony says.

"Are you handcuffed to the bed again?" Pepper says suspiciously, and Tony actually yelps in surprise.

*What? No!*

"Fine," Pepper says. "I'll phone you at 9.55," and hangs up. A minute later, a new email from her arrives, with the agenda for the meeting. Tony scans it, flips it open in a new window over to the side and proceeds to ignore it for the next half hour while he goes through the rest of his email.

The elevator pings open, footsteps coming out into the living area, and Tony drags his attention away from what he's doing, glancing over to see Steve, hair mussed and towel around his neck, wandering in the direction of his room.

"Hi," Tony says.

Steve glances over. "Oh, there you are. You alright? Need anything?"

*Protection from Pepper,* Tony says, and Steve grins.

"I am not helping you play hooky to get out of a board meeting," he says.

*Come ooooooon,* Tony whines, and Steve shakes his head, still grinning.

"You had more of a chance with the big kitten eyes," he says, and wanders on out of sight.

Tony sighs, puts his head back down, and goes back to work.

***

The board meeting goes about as well as expected, which is to say Tony spends most of his time fiddling with the specs for his jetboots to see if he can upgrade their power capacity while the board debates issues he's either already thought about or doesn't really care about. In the end they come to similar conclusions, and everyone goes away happy, or at least not annoyed at him. Pepper gives the camera hookup a long look as she leaves, and Tony is suddenly very glad that he is at least fifty floors away from her.

He brings his attention back to the real world to discover that sometime during the board meeting Steve has settled beside him with a book, arm lying next to him and fingers resting lightly on his back. Every so often he absentmindedly scritches the back of Tony's head, like he doesn't realise he's doing it. Tony's purring again, soft and low, and he tells himself to get a grip. Steve is just patting him because he's a kitten, and it's what people do when confronted with kittens. It doesn't mean anything and Tony should get over himself.

He pulls up his email again, forwarding another five invitations to Pepper, and sees one new message, sender: Mary-Jane Watson-Parker. The subject line reads 'I am quite fond of my husband, please don't kill him'. Tony frowns, and opens the email.

MJ has kept it short and to the point - 'Dear Tony, I love my husband but sometimes he can be a bit silly. I would appreciate it if you didn't kill him. Love, MJ' - with a link down the bottom. The link is something hosted on icanhascheezburger.com, and Tony spends the few seconds it takes for the page to load feeling slightly confused as to why MJ would be sending him a link to a page about cat macros.

Then the page loads, and he shoots bolt upright, bristling. "I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!" Tony shrieks.

Steve starts sideways, almost dropping his book.

"Tony? What's wrong?"

*PETER IS A DEAD MAN!* Tony snarls, claws ripping holes in the armrest of the couch that he absolutely does not care about, because Peter Parker is going to be as dead as Tony can make him as soon as he can get his claws into _him_ instead.

"Tony?" Steve says.

Tony snarls something inarticulate, tail lashing. He hopes that wherever he is, Peter's spider sense has just gone off, because Tony is going to _kill him_.

"Tony, talk to me," Steve says, braving danger and putting his hands on the armrest on each side of Tony's claws. "Come on."

Tony turns his head to regard Steve, eyes narrowed. *Peter turned me into a cat macro,* he says. *On the internet.*

Steve frowns. "Those are those pictures of cats with captions, right?"

*Yes,* Tony says. *And sometimes they are funny but _not this time_.*

"What did he do?" Steve says, and Tony takes over the TV output and broadcasts the image direct to the TV.

*See for yourself,* Tony says, carefully retracting his claws from the couch.

The picture is of Tony lying on the armrest, Peter's Spider-Man mask draped over his back. The caption reads 'CAPTN AMERKA'S KITTEH LIEKS SPIDEY MANS BETTAH'.

Steve blinks. "Do you?" he asks.

*What? No,* Tony says. *Well. No, but _definitely_ not right now.*

"Well," Steve says, "I've seen _more_ embarrassing photos of you."

*That's not the point!* Tony yowls. *The _point_ is that he is supposed to be my _friend_ , and _friends_ don't turn you into cat macros and post you on the _internet_.*

"You could just take it down?" Steve asks.

Tony sighs out a long breath and sits down. *No,* he says. *If I pull it now, it'll just get _more_ popular. The internet hates censorship.*

It's Steve's turn to sigh, now. "It's getting towards lunchtime - maybe you'll feel better after some food?"

*Coffee,* Tony says, and moans pitifully at Steve.

"No," Steve says, and picks Tony up, kind of gingerly in case his claws are still out.

Steve's right - Tony does feel less like killing Peter after eating another bowl of kitten food. Peter's still going to get his, though, and Tony has to wonder if Peter had contemplated the possibilities inherent in crossing someone with Tony's capabilities. He tracks down the Avengers communicator Peter is carrying on his person, finds the nearest cell phone signal (three inches away, it's got to be Peter's) and changes the ring tone to the most obnoxious new pop band he can find.

He's thinking about what else he can do to get his revenge (he's not so petty as to actually go and trash Peter's credit rating and wipe him off every database he can access, which is pretty much all of them, but that doesn't mean he's not going to spend a few minutes thinking about how satisfying it would be) when a call comes in. Tony remembers that he's a kitten and therefore totally screwed _before_ he leaves the kitchen this time, and he swears at the floor and calls for the armour.

Steve sends the call out over the comms, racing down the corridor into the kitchen a moment later. "Tony? You still in here?"

Tony skitters to the side to avoid being stepped on. "Here."

"There you are." Steve crouches down. "There are three very simple rules here. One, you do what I say. Two, you do not leave your pouch. And three, do _not_ take any risks."

Tony looks up at Steve, notes that there is a pouch hanging on Steve's hip that is a)empty, b)has no lid and c)looks about his size, and blinks. *Are you _serious_?* he says. *I mean, yes, okay.* He's not going to give Steve time to change his mind.

Steve scoops Tony up and settles him in the pouch. "If you could not claw people, that would be good too," he adds.

*Like you didn't want to hit him in the face,* Tony says, although it's _Steve_ , so he quite possibly didn't. Anyway, the elevator is here now.

Steve meets the armour halfway between the kitchen and the elevator, Iron Man taking a firm hold around Steve's waist. They launch, Tony patching in to the police line that issued the call.

*This is Iron Man,* he says, cutting through the panicked chatter which quiets abruptly at the sound of his voice. *What are we dealing with?*

The only cameras in the area - the north-east end of Manhattan Island - are serious-faced newsreaders talking about the severity of the afternoon storm. Viewers should bring their washing in, batten down, and prepare to hold out.

"The Raft put the call out about the storm," a man says over the line, confident. "It passed right over them without incident, but it's heading right for upper Manhattan."

*What is?* Tony asks. *We need to know what we're facing.*

"Far as we can tell," the man says, "the storm is a giant swarm of flying cats." He pauses. "I'd call it crazy, but, well, yesterday it was giant lobsters."

*I know,* Tony says. *Believe me, that smell just does not come off. Have they reached land yet?* He's accessing satellite footage as he speaks, pulling up pictures of the area. The storm of flying cats ( _flying cats_? that's just rude, when _he_ doesn't have wings) is visible only as a dark mass, over the river between Ryker's and Manhattan.

"They're coming up on Randalls-Wards Island," the man says "They'll be there in a few minutes."

*So will we,* Tony says. *Iron Man out.*

He adjusts the course to head straight for the island, shrinking down in his pouch. *Close your eyes,* he says to Steve, *I'm going to go faster-*

Steve locks his free arm around the armour's back and Tony increases speed, heading as fast as he thinks Steve can handle towards the island. *Head for Randalls-Wards,* he says over the Avengers channel. *The storm is not a storm; it's a mass of flying cats, and they're heading our way. No, Luke, I'm not shitting you.*

"Shit," Luke says.

"Huh," Peter says. "Maybe they came to eat the lobsters."

"Ew," Jessica says.

"Oh come on, you weren't even there!" Peter says.

"Blame Maria Hill," Jessica says. "I would have loved to fight the giant lobsters with you."

"Liar," Peter says.

"Yeah, okay," Jessica says. "Maria Hill _was_ the better end of the deal, but only because it meant I didn't have to wash my hair again."

Tony rolls his eyes and neatly lands him and Steve in the middle of an oval on the edge of the island. At this distance, the cats still look like storm clouds. He eyes them off - they look like they're fairly low in the sky, which is good. Given over half the Avengers can't fly, if they don't stay low there's going to be trouble.

"What's your ETA?" Steve asks, and Peter swings down from the nearest set of stadium lights.

"Hi," he says. "So, Tony, family reunion?"

Tony puts his paws on the edge of his pouch and straightens his upper body, giving Peter the nastiest look he can manage.

"Be glad we're about to get into a fight," Tony says, the armour crossing its arms threateningly. "Or you would be _so dead_ right now."

Peter looks from Tony to the armour, and swallows. "So!" he says brightly. "Cap, what's the plan?"

Jessica drops almost silently to the ground behind Peter as a car pulls up at the edge of the oval. A distant figure leaps out and starts jogging towards them, resolving into Luke Cage as he gets closer. Steve takes a quick look around the terrain, and then another, longer look at the oncoming storm.

"Okay," he says. "Spider-Woman, Iron Man, you're in the air. Stay low; we don't want them getting out of our range. Spider-Man, web the area between the lights here, try and net them in. Luke and I will engage them on the ground."

Peter nods, swinging up the nearest light pole, and the armour takes off, Jessica not far behind.

Next to Steve, Luke cracks his neck and rotates his shoulders. "First giant lobsters, now flying cats," he mutters. "This is crazy."

*At least he's not a _kitten_ ,* Tony says to Steve, and Steve runs a gloved hand over his head. 

As the cats approach, they resolve into individual shapes; they're certainly not as big as yesterday's lobsters, but they're a lot larger than average housecats - Tony thinks they would probably be about thigh-height. They've all got wings, too - big, white, feathered wings. The cats themselves have varicoloured fur, mostly darker shades.

As they come over the island wall, the lowest ranks land smoothly and start running over the grass towards them. Steve drops a little beneath him into a fighting stance, shield on his arm ready to throw.

As the first cats reach the far side of the oval, Steve takes a deep breath. "Stranger cats, you are trespassing on American soil!" he hollers at his best parade ground pitch. "Please stop!"

Tony eyes off the cats, who don't seem to have taken any notice of Steve at all. *Somehow I don't think that's going to work,* he says.

Steve shrugs. "Worth a try," he says, and then throws his shield.

In the sky, the armour puts up its gauntlets and generates a shield, the forward line of cats crashing into it, later ranks diving sharply to avoid a collision. Next to him, Jessica is trying to herd cats downwards with her venom blasts.

Steve's shield takes out the first rank of ground cats, Luke charging forward into melee, soon hard to make out through the crowd.

"How many _are_ there?" Jessica says, and the armour shrugs.

"Maybe all the pet stores are having catnip sales," Peter says. "Wait, why didn't I think of that earlier? I could have-"

"No," Steve says, hand falling to hover protectively over Tony's pouch, and even Tony is impressed by the warning in his tone of voice. "That would be a _spectacularly_ bad idea."

"Iron Man," Peter says a second later, chastened, "I'm going to swing off you."

*Okay,* Tony says, and then he can feel the drag as webbing hits one of the armour's shoulders, Peter's weight on the line. Peter flings himself over the armour's head a moment later, tumbling over the churning mass of cats, and drops a giant web over the top of as many of them as he can. Then gravity catches up with him, and he drops out of sight.

The cats are yowling now, and Tony thinks he's never heard a such a discordant noise in his life (and he's suffered though some pretty bad orchestral performances and string quartets in his time). They start sorting themselves out, righting lines and getting their fallen back into the air, and it isn't until he _stops_ paying attention to the yowls that he realises they're actually speaking to each other.

When he thinks about it, when he concentrates, the yowls are just noise, empty of meaning. It's only when he stops really _listening_ , starts thinking about something else, anything, the motion of Steve's body as he sways sideways, throwing the shield again, that he can parse the sounds as words.

If he can understand them, then maybe they can understand him.

*Steve,* Tony says, direct to him, *I need to break all of your rules.*

"No," Steve says, catching the shield.

Tony, not-listening to the yowls of pain, can hear the cats reorganising, setting up a row of cats to slow the shield the next time it's thrown, and then they will swarm the human when his defenses are down, tear him apart. Tony's not going to let that happen.

*Sorry,* he says, *I have to-* and leaps out of his pouch before Steve can stop him, landing on the ground and taking the biggest breath he can.

"STOP!" he hollers, and to his absolute surprise they do.

" _Tony-_ " Steve says, and then pauses as everything stills. "What are you doing?" he asks, softer.

*Stop fighting,* Tony says urgently over the Avengers channel. *Just, stop for a second-*

There is a rustle among the cats, whispers of sound that Tony can't quite discern, mixed with the soft drag of shifting feathers, and then the front line parts and a pure black cat walks out, stopping a few yards from Tony. This cat is the same size as the others, but his wings are jet black, currently folded neatly by his sides. He smells familiar and strange at the same time, scent almost stripped to nothing by the wind.

"Little kitten," the cat says, "I greet you as the leader of my people, the-" and then makes a noise that Tony can't translate. He bows slightly, one leg forward, dipping his head and wings briefly towards the ground. "We are searching for our God, lost these many years. Have you seen Him?"

"Greetings," Tony says, bowing to exactly the same angle as the other cat. "I am afraid that I have not heard of your people or your God, but perhaps if you told me about him I might be able to help you locate him?"

The front rank of cats starts whispering, but a sharp look from the leader cat silences them.

"Very well," he says. "My name is-" and makes another sound that Tony's brain decides is 'Dave'. He sits primly on the grass, tucking his tail around his legs.

"My name is Stark," Tony says in return, although he's not quite sure his name comes out right, and sits as well. He doesn't like the height difference Dave has going for him, but given that he is a tiny kitten there's not much he can do about it. "What can you tell me about your God?"

"What is he doing?" Peter whispers over the communicator.

*I'm _talking_ to them, what do you think?* Tony says.

"You speak Cat now?" Peter asks, but he stops asking stupid questions.

"Our God has no real name," Dave begins. "He was one of those chosen to pull the Lady's chariot, and so good was He at this task that she rewarded Him with immortality. The first of us were kittens He rescued from a cruel master. We will always be indebted to Him for His kindness."

Tony nods. *They're looking for their cat god,* he says to the others. *They're apparently Norse cats.*

"They're a long way from home," Steve murmurs.

"Our God is often disguised," Dave continues. "He can be as large as a horse or as small as a mouse, but He is always black."

"Does he have wings like yours?" Tony asks. Behind Dave, the front row of cats have started whispering again.

"No," Dave says. "The wings were a gift from the Lady to aid us in our search. When we return to our land we will return the gift, with thanks."

The whispers of the front row of cats start coalescing into a chant. It's very soft, but Tony thinks they're chanting 'nameless one'. His translation might be off.

Dave glances behind him to the other cats, then back at Tony, and his eyes widen. The chant gets louder, and Tony realises that they're not chanting 'nameless one', or rather, they _are_ chanting 'nameless one', because apparently when 'Stark' gets translated into Cat, that's what it comes out as. They're chanting his name.

Tony looks down at himself, at his tiny pure black paws, and then back up at Dave.

And then the entire mass of cats genuflects in a wave, Dave the last to drop, wings spread out and down.

"Lord," Dave says. "We have found You at last. You have made Your home here - lead us forward, and we will take this island of humans for our own and live with You."

Tony rises to his feet, staring. He can't process properly. They think _he's_ their missing God. They think-

"What's happening?" Peter whispers to Jessica, and Tony shakes himself out of his daze.

*They think I'm their God,* he says.

"They _what_?" Peter says, and Dave suddenly comes back to his feet and hisses angrily.

"He disrespects You!" he yowls. "Give the order, Lord! Let us conquer in Your name!"

*Steve,* Tony says, direct to him. *Steve, I need you to come and lift me. I need to be higher.*

Steve takes a step forward, and the front row of cats hisses angrily.

"Lord-" Dave says, and Tony yowls.

"Be still!" he says, and then Steve kneels behind him, setting his hands in front of Tony so Tony can delicately step on, and then raising him above his head. It's going to be hell on Steve's arms, but if he can keep it up, it's going to be perfect.

*I need everyone else to kneel,* Tony says over the main channel. *Quick, do it.*

The armour drops to its knees immediately. The other Avengers exchange glances, but Steve's there on the grass already, and they, too, drop.

Tony lifts his chin. "As you can see," he proclaims, "your conquest is not needed. These humans are already my servants."

*You know,* he says to Steve, *it would be kind of awesome being a cat God.*

"No," Steve murmurs, almost under his breath. "Because you'd have to go away with them."

*But where else am I going to get that much p-* Tony says, and Steve snorts lightly.

"If you finish that sentence," he murmurs, "I am _letting_ them have you."

"I apologise for my presumption, Lord," Dave says, and lowers himself to the ground. "Please, command us."

Tony sighs inwardly. It would be kind of awesome to be a cat God, but it would all turn out badly when they found out he wasn't really a)a cat, and b)a God, and besides, it's not like he'd have Steve.

"I cannot come with you," Tony says. "And you cannot stay. The Lady cannot lend you wings forever."

"But my Lord!" Dave protests, lifting his head. "If You do not come with us, You will be stranded! You cannot - You have no wings as we do."

"You doubt my power?" Tony thunders as best he can, and Dave drops his head. "The Lady would not begrudge me aid in returning home, when it is time for me to leave here."

Dave lifts to his feet. "I understand," he says. "Forgive me, Lord, for my insolence. I meant no disrespect." He bows, all the way down to the ground, wings spread and flat, and behind him several hundred other cats do the same. Tony swallows, and stands as tall as he can.

"I _will_ return," he says. "Do not worry, do not doubt. It may be many years, but your Lord _will_ return home."

"We will await You," Dave says, standing tall. "My Lord, we will prepare the way for You, and await Your coming. May it not be long before You grace our halls once more!"

Tony inclines his head, and Dave turns to the massed cats. "We return home!" he yowls. "Prepare the formation!"

The yowls of the squadron leaders blur into one another, orders to form up in ranks, course trajectories, and then Dave bows once more. "Until we meet again!" he yowls towards Tony, and then the cats take off, rank after rank lifting into the air, Dave the last to go. The whole flock circles the island once, and then they're flying, towards and past Ryker's and back to wherever they came from.

"What did you do?" Peter asks, everyone rising from their crouches. Steve lowers his arms and turns to face the others, and Tony sits abruptly, needing the support Steve is giving him.

*I sent them home,* Tony says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you interested, the background for the flying cats can be found [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freyja#Cat-drawn_Chariot).


	5. Chapter 5

**Momentary Paws (or, DO NOT WANT)**  
 **Part 5**

The flight back to the Tower is silent but for the rush of passing air. Steve hasn't put Tony back into the pouch, is cradling him in both arms, shield on his back, but Tony doesn't feel unsafe - quite the opposite. He knows Steve won't drop him, and Steve is solid and warm, something to pull him out of his sudden disconnect. Facing those cats - seeing them so far from home, searching and lost and _lonely_ -

Tony shakes himself mentally. He can't be their God for them, can't help them find what they're after, but he can keep an eye on them, stop them getting into too much trouble. It's only a moments work to issue the nearest satellite instructions, and now they're being tracked. He'll be able to find them in an instant if necessary, wherever they go in the world.

The armour lands them gently on the roof, Tony letting Steve go with the back of his mind, armour heading to the garage to power down. Steve takes Tony inside, heading down the corridor and into their room. Tony shakes his head. He really must be spacing out. It's not _their_ room, it's _Steve's_ room, and the sooner he remembers that the less it's going to hurt when he turns back to normal and Steve shuts the door in his face. Not that Steve would ever shut a door in his face, really, more a metaphorical door, although Tony would bet that he could probably _make_ Steve mad enough to-

Steve puts him down on the counter in the bathroom, and starts running the taps in the sink.

The counter is cold under his paws, and he turns to look at Steve, blinking. *Steve? What-*

Steve tests the water with his thumb, then hits the switch to close the drain. "You're having a bath," he says.

*What? No,* Tony says automatically.

"Tony," Steve says, watching the water level in the basin rise slowly, "you might be a kitten right now but you have not had a shower in days."

*Cats hate water,* Tony says. *It's a documented-*

"Last time I checked, _you_ were the one using up the hot water every day," Steve says over him. He turns the taps off, looking at Tony. "Stop complaining and get in."

Tony steps gingerly down onto the edge of the basin, balancing somewhat precariously on the narrow rim. He dips a paw into the water. Steve has the temperature just right, at least, so it's not like he's going to freeze.

Steve shifts his shoulders, then starts slipping his arms out of the shield straps. Tony pokes the other paw in this time, and Steve sets the shield against the wall and comes back over to him.

"It's not going to hurt you, I promise," Steve says, running a hand over Tony's back, and Tony mrows at him and slips in.

There's a moment where the water closes over his head and he sinks, sensation of water moving through his fur the only thing he can feel. Then his paws shift, almost of their own accord, and he splutters his way back to the surface, paddling to keep afloat.

"Okay?" Steve asks, and Tony paddles carefully to the edge of the basin nearest Steve, looking up.

*It's the world's tiniest swimming pool,* he says.

"Well, you're the world's tiniest kitten," Steve says. "Hold on, I'll get my shampoo."

He pokes his head into the shower, blue blur through frosted glass as he grabs the bottle, and comes back over, pulling off his gloves and dropping them against the wall near the shield. He starts to roll up his sleeves, eyes off Tony and the basin, then shrugs and hauls his entire shirt off.

*I'm not going to splash that much,* Tony says.

Steve just snorts, clicking the bottle open, then fishes Tony out of the water. "Close your eyes," he says.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. He can feel the coolness as Steve squeeze the shampoo onto him, then the bottle is set down on the counter and Steve's other hand is working it into a lather through his fur. He's suddenly, fiercely glad that he's a kitten right now, because this is something he can never have normally, _will_ never have once things get straightened out. Steve's fingers are gentle, careful, and Tony just stands and breathes, soaking it in.

"Okay," Steve says, finally, "hold your breath, I'll rinse you off."

Tony takes a breath, and then he's back in the water, Steve running fingers through his fur to clean off the shampoo. When he's done he lifts Tony out again, flicking the switch to drain.

"Let me just run some water over you," he says, "and I'll towel you off."

Tony blinks open his eyes carefully as Steve turns the taps again, testing the water, and then closes them hurriedly as Steve puts him under the spray, sluicing the last few suds from him.

"Okay," Steve says finally, taps squeaking closed, and Tony opens his eyes to see Steve grabbing a towel off the rack.

Steve towels him mostly dry and then turns him out of the bathroom. "I'll grab you some food in a few minutes," he says. A few moments later, the shower turns on.

*Okay,* Tony says, and leaps up onto his chair, sitting down. He half-closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything in particular. His damp fur seems heavier than normal, thick and clumping at the ends, and Tony kind of wants to stand up and shake it off like a dog, only he's pretty sure that it'll get him kicked out of the kitten club. Also he's not sure he could actually do that without falling over, and he looks dumb enough already.

The shower turns off, and Tony yawns, resisting the sudden urge to lick himself drier. What with the lobsters, and the news report, and the cats, he hasn't really given much thought to his own situation. If it was some sort of supervillan's master plan, they really should have come along to laugh at him by now, at least judging from the supervillans Tony's familiar with.

The bathroom door clicks open, Steve coming out in sweats and a shirt. "Come on, then," Steve says, and picks him up. "Dinner time."

Steve is warm, and Tony leans against him. It's not imperative that he gets turned back, come to think of it; it's not like he can't still pilot the armour and run his company and do everything else he does normally like this. One day won't make a difference, but like this it's one more day he can spend close to Steve.

He'll start looking tomorrow.

***

After dinner Steve stretches out on the couch with his book, Tony curled up on his chest. He's still damp, and without Steve's heat it's too cold for him by himself. Steve doesn't seem to mind that Tony's leaving wet marks all over his shirt, and when his free hand isn't turning pages he rests it over Tony's back.

Tony declares a personal moratorium on work, and closes his email, his messages, and does the mental equivalent of switching off his cell (which means diverting it to Pepper's cell, but she doesn't mind that much, by which he means it's only a 5 minute lecture if she happens to get any calls, and Tony is totally fine with that). Tonight he is going to just stay here, with Steve, and make the most of it. He's going to remember as much as he can, because sure, Steve is pretty much Tony's best friend, but Tony's pretty sure that isn't leeway to spend an evening basically curled up on him. So yeah, Tony's going to remember this. He's going to remember this for the rest of his life.

Peter and MJ drift down the hall and into the kitchen, soft clatter of dishes as they grab dinner themselves. Peter wanders out at one point, greeting Steve, and then double-takes as he notices Tony, curled up in the centre of a damp spot on Steve's shirt.

"Did you fall in a bucket?" Peter says, and Tony snorts. Peter is still not wearing his communicator, which means Tony is going to ignore him.

"No, I gave him a bath," Steve says. "He'll catch a chill if he's doesn't stay warm while he dries off."

Tony sneezes theatrically, and then sneezes another half dozen times involuntarily. He'd better _not_ be catching a cold, goddammit, and hell if even his _sneezes_ aren't the most pathetic thing he's ever heard.

Peter takes a step back, hands up. "Woah!" he says. "Okay, I'm going back to the kitchen where the worst I'm going to catch is a spoon to the knuckles."

"I heard that!" MJ singsongs from the kitchen, and Peter hurries back through the door.

Tony snuffles a bit longer, and then buries his head back into Steve's shirt.

He dozes for bit, on and off, although he's always aware of Steve, warm and solid and comforting. Steve is his compass, even more so now, and Tony thinks he might be more comfortable here than anywhere else he's ever been, armour excepted. Steve isn't going to tell him he's worthless and then try and kill him, and he certainly isn't going to die on him. Steve is - and Tony shifts a little, trying to wriggle closer, Steve's hand on his back pressing reassurances. Steve is-

"Come on," Steve says, closing his book. "Bedtime for superheroes."

Tony mrows sleepy protest, but it's all for show - he _is_ tired, and now that he has several perfect hours engraved into his memory he thinks he can let go enough to sleep. Steve braces Tony with his free hand as he gets to his feet, taking them down the hall to his room. Tony takes his turn in the bathroom first, and once he's done and Steve's done they hop into bed.

Steve lies down first, Tony curling up on his chest once he's settled. He rests a light hand on Tony's back, keeping him warm, and Tony purrs his thanks.

"Goodnight," Steve says, softly, and Tony takes one last image of the day to remember, one last, perfect moment.

*Goodnight.*

Steve is home.

***

On a mountain half the world away, a woman stirs from sleep. She uncurls her arms and sits up, red hair slipping forward over her shoulder as she hugs the comforter around her. She can remember dreaming, long and deeply, but now that she's awake, everything is fading, cobwebs that slip through her fingers as she tries to reach for them.

There were cats, she thinks, although maybe they were birds, since she can remember wings, soaring across the sky. And maybe something about crabs? It's all fading too fast, but the final part of the dream is the most clear, and she can remember feeling safe, content. Loved.

She sits a moment more, holding onto the feelings until the last fragments have splintered into dust, irretrievable, and then shakes her head, sliding from the bed. It's not important, and she should let it go. After all, it was just a dream.

Just a dream.

**Epilogue**

Steve wakes abruptly. He's not tensed for battle, so there's nothing _wrong_ , but there's something _different_. He keeps his eyes closed, doing a quick inventory of his surroundings. The bedroom is quiet but for his and Tony's breathing, nothing else moving around. The temperature is normal, and Tony is sprawled half across him, warm, head on his shoulder and leg slung over his own.

Maybe a noise from outside? Although since they're on the top floors, it would have to be an awfully loud noise, or a very low-flying craft - and then Tony shifts slightly, crowding closer to Steve under Steve's encircling arm, and Steve realises that what's changed is _Tony_.

He opens his eyes, shifting his head ever-so-slightly so he can see, Tony sprawled boneless and completely human across him, messy hair brushing Steve's collarbone. Tony shifts a little more, and Steve realises that Tony is also completely naked apart from his leather collar. Not that Steve minds, of course, but Tony will probably totally freak out about it.

Steve lets his head rest back on the pillow, absently trailing his fingers gently over Tony's back. He's got several options here, and it's only fair that he consider all of them.

He could kick Tony out right now, of course, but he discards that almost immediately. Tony's his best friend, his - well, his best friend, and he's not going to do that to him when he's just spent several traumatic days as a tiny kitten. At the very least, Tony doesn't normally get enough sleep, so Steve will damn well make sure that he doesn't have any untoward interruptions.

He could wait until Tony wakes up, make sure he's okay, and _then_ kick him out. It's not like Tony wouldn't understand - he's spent most of the last three days straight looking after him and making sure he's okay, and Tony can definitely understand the need for personal space, given how prickly he can sometimes be. On the other hand, doing that would make Tony get that wounded look, the one that says you've just ripped out his heart and stomped on it, even when what you've said you thought was totally innocuous, and Steve doesn't want to be the one to put that look in Tony's eyes. Besides, it's _Tony_. It's not like he was a huge burden. Steve just doesn't think that Tony would have been comfortable with any of the others looking after him. He can't imagine him sleeping on _Peter_ , for example - although he _could_ imagine him sleeping on Jessica, and okay, there's a mental image Steve doesn't need.

Okay, so, he's not kicking Tony out now, and he's not kicking him out in the morning. That leaves the one Steve has been avoiding thinking about, because when the other person in question is a tiny _cat_ it's more than a little disturbing. The thing is, Tony has been spending all his time in Steve's personal space, and maybe it's just because he'd been a kind-of-helpless tiny kitten, but maybe it's because that's where he felt most comfortable. And it could be because he's Steve's best friend or it could be because of the other thing and maybe Steve is just over-thinking this.

One thing he does know for sure - if Tony wakes up before Steve does, he'll try and sneak out, and then Steve will never get a straight answer out of him short of knocking him out, tying him down and then poking him with a stick. And amusing as that image is, obviously Steve will just have to make sure he doesn't get away.

He smiles fondly down at Tony, and locks his hands together behind Tony's back. Tony has enough room to shift around still, but unless he turns back into a kitten he's not going anywhere.

Tony makes a sleepy noise, pressing closer to Steve, and Steve turns his head, resting his chin against Tony's hair. Yeah, this was fine.

He could definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously did not expect this kind of reception when I started re-posting my old fic to AO3. Thank you so much to everyone for your kudos and comments! I hope you have enjoyed yourself :)
> 
> ~velithya


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